


gravity's got a tight hold

by ErinNovelist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Astral Plane, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for Season 5, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNovelist/pseuds/ErinNovelist
Summary: Right now, everything about Shiro feels completely wrong. But in that moment, trapped between the Lions and the universe, where he choked on wind and starlight, everything about Shiro felt completely right.It doesn’t explain anything.





	gravity's got a tight hold

 

Something’s wrong with Shiro.

“We can’t plan an operation so important this quickly.” Allura’s eyes are ice, not giving the rest of the team any room for argument. For the most part, everyone seems to be in agreement, except for Shiro.

“We don’t have a choice.” His words are biting.

 Lance is aware that Shiro knows a thing or two about calculated risks, but that’s never been a factor when it’s come to the team’s safety. Pidge mentioned a “warzone,” which is pretty much where they’ve been living for over a year since leaving Earth, but Lance isn’t one to volunteer to fly directly into one with little to no reconnaissance. _It’s a suicide mission_ , he recalls Commander Iverson telling them after he tried to pull a stunt in the simulator without listening to Pidge’s feedback about the mission.

Knowledge, Lance knows, is one of the most important pieces in a war. It’s what allows the Blade of Marmora to be successful. Their _knowledge or death_ motto has saved them from extinction and Zarkon’s eyes (which really are the same thing) for centuries. He swallows thickly, wondering if this is what Keith realized when he left to become a Blade.

“I’m with Allura,” Lance interjects, drawing Shiro’s cold eyes towards him. “We need time to think this over.”

He expects a concession or compromise, something to show the middle ground. Shiro, however, only offers a reprimand. “Lance, this is _not_ your call.”

He can hear Pidge, Coran, and Allura interjecting as well, trying to make Shiro see sense, but there’s a stalemate between two parties, and he never expected to see Shiro down the barrel of his gun.

“Shiro,” he says, stepping forward. “We’re all on the same side here.”

It doesn’t work. Shiro whirls around, eyes flashing like a raging blaze, as he spits out, “I told you to stay out of this.”

Instincts tell Lance to pull the trigger.

But he isn’t staring at Zarkon, this is Shiro—his friend and teammate—and suddenly he’s sixteen again, hand raised in a sloppy salute as he stares at the shoes of his commanding officer. Lance feels the weight of three years burden his shoulders, sinking through his chest and draping over his heart and lungs, until it hurts to even breathe. 

 _Something’s wrong with Shiro_ , his instincts scream.

And for the first time in a long while, Lance ignores them.

 

 

*

 

They’re fighting to protect Olkarion, and a unison bayard call is the only thing that will save them.

The countdown comes, but it’s not the same as Lance remembers. Before, it had been in the middle of a raging battle full of blood, sweat, and tears, where exhaustion had pumped through his body like sludge, his heart thundering to keep up. It was back when Lance only had to be the leg to stand on, not the arm to drive the sword through a heart.

The memory crashes over him as he remembers the last battle with Zarkon, before Shiro had disappeared and Keith took on the mantle as the Black Paladin. Moving as a group had been cohesive and easy, and as he settles into the void—the space between reality and the Lions—it feels like he’s breathing underwater and choking on wind. All around him is colors and shapes, stars and oceans, and he doesn’t know whether to fly or drown. 

The rest of the Paladins appear before him, each connected like a nerve under his skin, a sputtering wire fighting to spark. There’s no Shiro this time, only a blank space where he should be. Panic settles deep, jarring his cold, damp bones back to life, and an inkling of fear spreads through the Paladin bond as they all call Shiro to their side.

It’s a want—a need. With what little strength they have, they drag Shiro to the surface of the void, until he’s standing before them like a ghost, barely visible in the shadow of the eclipsed star above them. It feels different than how it normally does, sends a buzz through Lance’s veins, a cure to a poison he hadn’t known he’d taken.

With Shiro there, for the first time in a long while, it feels _right._

Colors erupt, the wind picks up, the stars turn brighter. Voltron is connected with their Black Paladin as their guiding light, and one by one, they blink out of existence—each ready for battle—until it’s only Lance and Shiro left.

It’s scary, in that moment. Lance feels like something is holding him there, not like he’s anchored but using _him_ as theirs.

“ _Lance_.” It’s Shiro.

Lance whirls around, eyes trying to pick out the ghost of his friend through the colors and stars, through the shadows and light, past the wind and water. He can barely see the black and white colors of his armor, but he knows it’s Shiro. He knows it’s him.

“ _Lance, listen to me_.” His voice is urgent, panicked. It sends chills down Lance’s spine.

“What?” Lance calls back, but then the hold that keeps him in this world slips, and he blinks out like the rest of the Paladins.

He wakes up in the cockpit of the Red Lion, and there’s a battle to fight and a war to be won. The incident in the void remains in the back of his mind, only perking up when the world is once again at peace. It’s quickly wiped away with a half-hearted apology via Shiro, but one that Lance still accepts, even though it leaves fear to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

Right now, everything about Shiro feels completely _wrong_. But in that moment, trapped between the Lions and the universe, where he choked on wind and starlight, everything about Shiro felt completely _right_.

It doesn’t explain anything.

 

 

*

 

Things go downhill fast.

“I’m feeling so confused. It’s like…” Shiro’s voice trails off as Lance levels him with a steady gaze, heavy and pointed, like a hammer against a nail’s head. It seeks to find an anchor, some sort of explanation for the _off_ feeling that Shiro’s been exuding since he returned. Lance isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he thinks he might be close.

“What?” Lance presses. His hands clench into tight fists at his side.

Shiro’s eyes shutter for a moment, trying to find the words that Lance knows has been coming for some time. He steadies himself, taking a deep breath, and says, “…Like I’m not myself.”

There’s silence, the span of a single heartbeat, and then Lance leaps into action, mind working in overdrive.

Shaky hands reach for Shiro to help him stumble towards the wall. “It’s probably lack of oxygen. You should sit down.” He watches the older man slide down to a half-crumbled position, and Lance is at a loss. 

“We’ll get through this,” he tells Shiro because what else can he say?

 _Like I’m not myself_.

Lance doesn’t know where to go with this information because he’s been thinking the same thing ever since Shiro returned to the team, many _many_ months ago after another stint as a Galra prisoner. He tries to tell himself that it’s only natural. Imprisonment can change a person—he’s seen it in the drawn faces of the slaves they rescue from labor camps, from Matt and Commander Holt, from the screams that echo from Shiro’s room during the dead of night.

But ever since Shiro returned, the halls have been oddly quiet. There’s no haunted gaze, the stutter-step of a person learning to trust again, the careful movements and decisions of a man desperate to redeem himself. It’s just been a shell that walks around the Castle, a ghost that lurks in the shadows just out of the corner of his eye. It’s like everything that makes Takashi Shirogane has disappeared, and the Shiro that Lance once knew hasn’t been around for quite some time.

 _Like I’m not myself_.

 _Yes,_ Lance tells himself, _that’s exactly the problem_.

“W-When did this start?” Lance tries to ask, desperate to probe his friend for more information.

He probably should leave the issue alone, at least until he has some back-up or knows for certain that they won’t die from this venture into Altean myth, but something inside him is desperate. It’s been building for so long, and now that he’s on a precipice, he isn’t sure whether to step back or jump off the edge. 

The Blade of Marmora’s mantra of _knowledge or death_ suddenly makes sense. If he presses forward and finds things that are better off left hiding in the dark, it could cost him everything. Else, he could leave it well-enough alone until he’s certain, knows there’s a reason to investigate his friend, but he’d lose _precious_ time—time he currently doesn’t have.

Lance wonders: how much is he willing to sacrifice for the truth?

Shiro shakes his head, sitting up slowly. “I… don’t know. Maybe when the Galra captured me the second time? I kept waiting for things to click, thought it was whatever drugs they had me on. But… _Lance_ …” His voice turns rough. “It’s been _months_ , and nothing’s felt the same. It’s like I’m going through the motions, but I’m not… really _here._ ” 

Words catch in Lance’s throat, and he swallows them down. _I don’t want this to be real,_ he pleads. _Don’t let it be real._ He’s had his preconceived notations, heard Allura’s fears on the training deck when everyone else is asleep, known that Keith wouldn’t have left Voltron if things were really alright. The thought of something being wrong with Shiro causes Lance’s stomach to curdle in disgust, acid hot and boiling filling him to the brim, because he can’t handle it if his friend is going through even more _pain_.

Hasn’t Shiro been through enough?

“Yeah, it’s probably just oxygen deprivation.” Lance chuckles lowly, but it’s rough and dry, grating in the back of his throat. Shiro can see right through it.

Nonetheless, the other man closes his eyes and leans back again the ball, trying to ground himself in the tremulous times of war. Lance can only stare, hoping that it truly is the lack of oxygen.

 _It can’t be real_ , Lance tries to reason with himself. _It just_ can’t.

…But if it is real, then he has an explanation for every time he doubted Shiro. It makes sense, what’s nipping at the edges of everyone’s frayed nerves, if there truly _is_ a problem. It’s all circumstantial though, simply lost wanderings in the corner of his mind, things he isn’t truly ready to face.

Lance can’t deal with this right now. He needs someone who truly knows the _real_ Shiro to answer all his questions, and he and the rest of the team aren’t equipped to handle that right now. Not here, trapped in around a white hole in a graveyard of cold, empty ships and bones and stardust. Perhaps, he reckons, after they’ve finished their adventure in the lost part of this nameless galaxy and _hopefully_ don’t die, then he can do something about this.

What he needs is a moment to breathe. Who he needs is Keith.

 _Like I’m not myself_.

 _Well then,_ Lance wonders, _if you’re not Shiro, then who are you?_

 

 

*

 

They come through alive and well because that’s just what Voltron does.

Shiro seems to forget his confession to Lance in the shadowed corridor of the Castle, choking on the ghosts of their last breathes, and tries to move on as best he can. Lotor returns to the Central Command Center to deal with the remains of the once glorious Galra Empire while Allura directs Voltron’s sights on the rebellious Galra factions. It’s not the most important thing on Lance’s mind, but he understands that striving for peace amongst tremulous times is a surefire way to prevent another war.

Slowly but surely, he can feel the tides of this millennia-long war coming to a close, and he’ll do everything he can to help.

As much as he tries to concentrate on his responsibilities against the Galra and in the war, Lance can’t help but think about Shiro. The leader snaps at the smallest of comments, to anyone who might disagree with his orders, who brushes off warnings and emotions easily like dust to the eye. It’s when the Shiro walking down the hall and nods Lance a greeting and seems more like Zarkon than Commander Holt that Lance finally makes a move to do something about it.

It’s like Shiro is careening at a downward spiral at 6Gs with no object to eject or parachutes to help. Eventually, he’s going to meet the surface and die in a fiery explosion, and if there’s one thing Lance is sure about, that might prove to be detrimental towards Voltron’s new goals—from a team perspective, at least. From a personal perspective, Lance is just worried about his friend. 

…If that even is his friend.

It’s weeks after Lotor has left Voltron to their own accord when Lance finally dials the number on his coms unit that he knows is reserved for emergencies only. Keith’s wide purple eyes greet him, mouth poised over the first syllable of “ _Shi_ - _?_ ” before Lance interrupts him with the few words he knows will make Keith _really, really_ listen and play attention.

“It’s Shiro. Something’s wrong.”

At the end of the day, he’s spent so much time trying to reassure Allura, Pidge, and Hunk that Shiro is just stressed, overcome with the pressure of war, that he can’t possibly approach them with his fears. A small part of him deep inside, buried under layers of calloused palms from piloting a war machine, and the strength and gains he’s made shouldering the burden of a Paladin, screams that his team will throw his concerns off with a simple wave of the palm.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his team because he absolutely does. He trusts them unconditionally, but the last few months, Lance has taken on the mantle to wash their worries away, so to present his own on top of theirs might be too much to handle. Besides, what difference could they make? All they’re left with is an uneasiness around Shiro because none of them know what to do. 

They can’t just _talk_ to Shiro about this. How do you tell a broken man that he’s falling apart?

The only person Lance can turn to has left the team when they needed him most, but is always there should they need him. Shiro made a point of reminding Keith about this fact, and Lance is about to call that point into play. It’s the only thing he can think of.

“Shiro?” Keith purses his lips in a thin line, confusion furrowed into his brow. “Is he hurt? What’s wrong?”

Lance can see the worry washing over Keith: in the set of his shoulders tensing underneath his Blade uniform, the way his eyes glaze over with ice, the way his voice takes on a hard edge. Lance knows a lot about Keith at twenty: a prodigy pilot, one of the best sword wielders on this side of the universe, a concrete constant in the turning times of war. When Keith left, a part of Lance broke off—and he had to learn to be a leg and right hand for the team. 

It’s the toughest thing he’s ever had to do. Calling Keith to confess his doubts about Shiro—that’s another.

“Lance?” Keith asks again. His head tilts to the side as he tries to gauge the other man. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Shiro, like I told you.” Lance shrugs helplessly, struggling. He isn’t sure what to do because he still isn’t sure what’s wrong with Shiro. All he knows is that Keith might be his best bet on finding out. “Something’s going on, and I could use your help.”

“Is he hurt?” It’s the only question Keith knows how to ask—only because it’s the one he’s had to ask the most often. The thought tears Lance up a bit.

Lance swallows thickly, his eyes falling on his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap. “I don’t think Shiro is… _all here_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance takes a breath, trying to find words he doesn’t even know the meaning to yet, and says, “I don’t think our Shiro is really Shiro.”

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise. “What’s going on? Tell me everything.”

“It’s just a feeling I have,” Lance says as he tries to make sense of the chaos and instability that has haunted this team since Shiro came back. “All I know is something isn’t right. Shiro’s noticed it too, and even though he tries to pretend everything’s fine, I know he knows it’s getting worse.” 

Keith leans closer to the coms unit, and he’s serious with somber eyes, and it’s everything that Lance needs right now. “Lance, you’re going to have to be specific.”

When it comes to Shiro, Keith won’t shrug off genuine worries, as Lance has been trying to do for the past few weeks. With Keith and Shiro, it’s always been simple. Black against the dark night, eyes shining like the moon, Keith stares at Shiro like he’s important, like he’s the only one who matters, like he’s his North Star and can lead him home. Shiro has always treated him the same in return because he cares.

Keith has always risked everything to keep Shiro safe because that’s what you do for your family, and there’s no doubt in Lance’s mind that Keith will do the same thing yet again.

“He’s snapping at everyone, he doesn’t smile, he’s acting more like an dictator than a commander.” Lance’s voice trails off as he counts off the instances on his fingers, tries to note everything that’s been occurring since Keith left. “And I know that he’s been through some hard times, and that stress is a thing, but Keith… something’s different, and I know if you were here, you’d see it too.”

 _So what I’m really asking_ , Lance isn’t saying, _is that we need you here, so please come back._

Keith bites the bottom of his lip, carefully processing Lance’s words. “It’s not that simple, Lance. I can’t just drop everything and come back.”

“Not even for Shiro?” Lance challenges.

“…Not even for Shiro.” And it’s the most agonizing thing that Lance has ever heard from him. 

“ _What_?!” 

Keith sighs, and his whole body seems to crumble in on itself. “There’s a lot… going on here. People who need me, people who _I_ need right now. I can’t just walk away.”

 _…No?_  

“You’re not coming?” Lance is at a loss. _No, no,_ this can’t be happening. How could Keith ever give up on Shiro? “We need you. _Shiro_ needs you.”

“Look,” Keith begins, closing his eyes tightly. It’s horrible to watch him try to work sentences from a grating chest. “I have a duty here, Lance, I’ve got… my… _family_ here. I really, really can’t leave right now. Believe me, I would if I could, but there’s really no option for me to come—”

“We’re your family, Keith,” Lance spits through gritted teeth, anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “You walked away from us once, and now you’re walking away again when we need you the most? When Shiro needs you?”

“…I… I can’t come back. I found my _mom_ , Lance, I found her, and she says she wants to stay, and I’ve never had that, and I just—”

And with that, Lance’s world stumbles to a halt.

If there’s a few things that Lance knows about Keith, it’s that Shiro is probably the most important person in his life, and that he has no one else. He recalls late one night on the star deck, with a bottle of Altean alcohol and the universe above them, when Keith confessed that Voltron was the closest thing he’s come to a home or family since his dad had disappeared.

But… his _mother_? 

Lance knew Keith was part Galra, but did this mean his mother….? 

“Your mom?” Lance asks, soft and careful.

Keith purses his lips into a thin line and ducks his head once in a sharp nod. There’s truly nothing else to say on the matter, and Lance knows this. If he was given the opportunity to with a mother he’d never known, who left but wants to stay this time around, he’d take it in a heartbeat. He can’t blame Keith for choosing this. 

Keith swallows thickly, clearing his throat as he asks, “Shiro’s safe though, right? Because I’ll come h-home if he’s not, but he has you guys and Allura and Coran. I mean, you can take care of it right? It’s just stress or something.”

If stress were the answer, Lance wouldn’t be calling Keith on the emergency-only line, and Keith knows this. But from the look on his friend’s face, desperate eyes and chapped lips, Lance knows that Keith just wants to believe that, for one moment, everything can simply be _okay_ for him… And Lance can’t deny Keith that.

For once, he really can’t.

“Yeah,” Lance breathes out with a soft sigh. “Shiro’s safe, Keith.”

The _for now_ hangs in the air between them, silent and deadly, because neither are sure how long _for now_ will last, and neither wants to be the person to ask.

There’s noise from the background of the coms unit, and Keith is ducking out of the visual screen, eyes flickering to the side. With a heavy groan, he rubs the bridge of his nose with gloved fingers and cast a solemn smile in Lance’s direction. “I need to get going,” he says, shrugging helplessly. “I’m about to go on a mission, and Kolivan needs to brief me beforehand.”

“Yeah, okay.” His words grow heavy as they fall from his lips, and Lance wishes he could swallow them back down. They sound defeated and broken, like his last hope has been snuffed out, and in a way, Lance reckons it has. Keith was the only person who could prove he wasn’t crazy, and that things were fine. 

_Something’s wrong with Shiro._

_Like I’m not myself._

_Who are you then, Shiro?_

“You’ll call me, right?” Keith asks suddenly, pulling Lance from his reverie, “If things change?" 

“Of course.”

“And…” Keith pauses. “If you need help, maybe talk to the Black Lion? Because when we lost Shiro last time, the Lion was the one who found him. It’s got a connection to him that no one else does.”

Lance nods and they say their goodbyes, and he can’t help but feel even more alone and empty than when he first started the call. Of all people, he’d expected Keith to understand and head back at a moment’s notice, but things have changed, and Keith has his own mission and family outside of Voltron now.

Which means it’s up to Lance now, to find out what’s bothering Shiro.

 

 


End file.
